She stood up and handed him a small, battered brass key. "My nephew runs a clock repair shop three alleys down from the Square. He’s late today because his daughter is sick. If you open the shutters for him, he’ll let you sit in the loft. You can watch the Astronomical Clock from above, away from the crowds. No ticket, no line."
Below, the Old Town Square was waking up. He watched the first wave of tour groups arrive, their colorful umbrellas bobbing like cereal bits in milk. From this height, he could see the intricate gears of the great clock through a side window, humming with a life the people below never saw. tourist
The sun wasn’t even up when Elias pulled his suitcase over the cobblestones of Prague. The sound—a rhythmic clack-clack-clack —echoed against the silent, gothic facades, making him feel like an intruder in a sleeping giant’s bedroom. She stood up and handed him a small, battered brass key